I sit up, look at my all-girl face in the mirror, then do my Plan B rituals. After that, I check the date on my clock. Friday, April 6. Seventy-eight days until prom night. Apple green marker in hand, I cross off the four previous days. Jack came early this cycle, so I have to rework my prom projections. Flipping through the months, I realize that my previously reliable 28.76-day cycle has drifted into a disconcerting irregularity. I do a quick calculation. The new average cycle length, based on the last six months, clocks in at 27.67 days. That whittles the window between prom night and Jack’s expected arrival from five days to a hair-raising two! A further increase in cycle irregularity, and I could miss the prom altogether! Prom. Tommy. The Bump. The J-bar! My life is a disaster on so many levels, I can hardly keep track of it all. Dragging myself to the dresser, I peel off Jack’s stinky white T-shirt and notice a hideous bruise on my left shoulder. Pulling his boxer briefs down, I spot its bluish green twin on my left hip.
